


Like Sunlight

by ancient_moonshine



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoptive father/son relationship, Especially when he's perfectly aware of what you feel for him, Fluff and Angst, Grief, Guilt, Living with an Empath is Hard, Mostly Unsuccessful, Shame, attempted hurt/comfort, enough actual love to make things hurt even more, it's complicated - Freeform, replacement goldfish feels, which is in short order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 10:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20794949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancient_moonshine/pseuds/ancient_moonshine
Summary: It wears him down, that Elrond can see into his heart just as easily as he can coax wounds into closing.[In which Elrond sees into Maedhros' heart, and Maedhros has to deal with it.]





	Like Sunlight

Dawn finds Maedhros bent low over his study table, frowning at a map one of his spies had smuggled into Amon Ereb when he hears a knock on the door to his quarters. He’s tired, his head is pounding, and the agony flaring across the useless stump of his wrist is like fire . Last night’s rest yet another casualty of the nightmares that plagued his mind like the orcs across Northern Beleriand, but deep, dreamless sleep had been a thing of the past since the Noldor’s departure from Valinor and even moreso after Thangorodrim.

“You may enter.” He says without looking up. He knows who’s waiting by his doorway by his gentle presence, like quiet sunlight filling the room. The bunched-up muscles of his back and neck easing in spite of himself when his guard opens the door and Elrond walks into his study.

“Maedhros?” Maedhros looks up. Elrond’s holding a tray with breakfast. He’s meant to train in the infirmary today, and so he’s dressed in the grey robes of a healer, his dark hair braided back. Maedhros returns his gaze to the map before his eyes linger where they shouldn’t. The curve of his pale throat beneath the stiff collar as he cranes his neck up to look Maedhros in the face. His grey eyes, luminous in the pale light of dawn. His profile in the half-light, that if Maedhros allowed himself to believe looked just like Fingon’s -  
  
Maedhros exhales, looks away, keeping a tight rein on his emotions, on his mind. The door closes behind Elrond. Elrond sets the tray on Maedhros’ desk. He says nothing at Maedhros' turmoil, but Maedhros can sense him anyway. The soft edges of him, hopeful and yearning.

“Thank you, Elrond. You may leave.” Elrond doesn’t leave. Maedhros looks at him, then at the tray, and is surprised to find two bowls of rice porridge with pickled vegetables, two spoons, a pot of tea and two cups. The boy flushes.

“Maglor told me to stay here and make sure you eat.” Maedhros is certain Elrond’s lying – there’s that defiant jut of his chin identical to Elros’ when he got in the mood to be stubborn. Elrond did it but rarely, but when he does all Maedhros can think of is Fingon, insistently digging his heels in on one subject or another. _Maitimo, just marry me already – _

Elrond looks away.

“Your wrist is hurting you.” He says abruptly, though outwardly Maedhros had given no sign. Before Maedhros can move away, Elrond is already reaching for him, lifting his arm and peeling back the empty sleeve.

The boy’s mind against his is feather-light and just as gentle, searching for the hurt. His fingers – calloused from swordfighting – are careful on Maedhros’ skin, and Maedhros sucks in a breath. A warm, wretched tenderness filling his chest.

Elrond closes his eyes. Heat pours in from his hands down the stump of Maedhros’ wrist, to his neck and back, even up to his temples. The pain eases, and Maedhros’ sigh sounds more like a sob.

Elrond is watching him carefully. Maedhros forces himself to speak.

“Thank you, Elrond.” He pulls his wrist away, pretending not to see – or feel – the disappointment that occludes the boy’s expression. “Let’s break our fast. You’ll need to get to the infirmary soon.” He avoids Elrond’s gaze as they sit opposite each other.

They eat in silence. Maedrhos takes note of how the muscles of his back are no longer stiff, how even his head - his heart - feels lighter. Both of the twins are training at the infirmary, but it was Elrond who had discovered a special affinity for it. Elros wasn’t so far behind, but his chief interests lay in other things. Maedhros thinks back to the respect shown by the other soldiers to him – even the hardened ones who had been with them since their flight to Middle-Earth. It wasn’t that he was afraid of a mutiny, but more and more often Maedhros found himself thinking of what the future would hold for the twins. Certain – and grateful beyond words for this certainty - that wherever the long, weary years would lead them, their path would not end in Amor Ereb’s grim battlements.

_Had you allowed them to grow up with their parents, had you not destroyed their home, their mother’s home– Dior Eluchil's hand grasping his queen's as they drowned in their own blood, the look of despairing triumph on the Lady Elwing's face when she jumped into the sea -_

“Maedhros?”. Maedhros shrinks back from the questioning press of Elrond’s mind. It wore on him that Elrond could sense his heart as easily as he could coax wounds to close.

(There had been another person who could do that, once. Who could look beyond the blood and the scars and the weight of the Oath to find someone still worth loving. And it had killed him.)

“Stop reading my mind and eat your breakfast.” Maedhros says shortly. Elrond flushes and looks down, but Maedhros can see him sneaking glances at him with a concern that makes him burn with shame.

Elrond hesitates before he picks up the tray. Maedhros can feel the boy’s mind searching for the hurt, trying to find a way to make it better. He never could stand for anything to be in pain. Maedhros ignores him, turns his attention back to the map.

(He cannot, he will not allow himself to reach for the boy, to embrace him and cradle his face between his hands and tell him that he sees him and not just the shade of his cousin. To kiss him and return a measure of the warmth Elrond’s presence had returned to his life, his and Maglor’s both, joy that he had stolen from more deserving arms. He will not allow him to fall into the black pit of the fate he shared with his brothers, he cannot -)

Maedhros falls still when he feels Elrond’s arms slip hesitantly around him from behind. His cheek pressed against Maedhros’ back. Maedhros’ eyes burn, sunlight from the window almost blinding him even as his breathing eases. His remaining hand, almost of its own volition grasping Elrond’s, as tightly as possible without hurting him.

He lets Elrond hold him for a long time, the sound of Elrond’s heartbeat against his back lulling him into something approaching calm. Maedhros breathes, and turns around. Reaching up, about to trail his fingers lightly down Elrond's cheek, but he catches himself. Freezing, his nails cutting into his palm as he curls his hand into a fist and drops it..

“Go, Elrond.” He says, his voice quiet and raw. He can see Elrond open his mouth, then think better of it at the damn-near pleading expression on Maedhros’ face. He bites his lip, drops his arms. Picking up the tray, his shoulders slumped dejectedly as he leaves Maedhros’ study. Maedhros does not look at him. 

The door closes. When he senses he’s gone, Maedhros shivers, sinking into the seat as he buries his face in his remaining hand, finally allowing himself to feel the loss.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it was Galadriel's schtick that she could see into the hearts of men, but I wanted to play with the idea of Elrond seeing into Maedhros' and just wanting to help, and having no idea how. [Honey, it's not you. The guy's been a mess and a half since even before Thangorodrim.]
> 
> No idea if this'll have a part II, but if people like the idea of my torturing these two, why not.


End file.
